As his religion.
And further down the form,
Checked Unintended Austerity,
As his economic condition.
He found himself reciting, by rote,
As he lugged heavy goods on trekking trails,
Earning one full pocket of hums and chants,
And another pocket of inner peace,
And mused about trading some inner peace
An android phone,
A New York Yankee baseball hat
And, maybe, a yak
With a broad back to carry the goods.
Plus I’d like to get to Kathmandu,
I’ll spend some chants and hums
On a hotel room
And smell the spices
And mingle with guys on motor bikes
And squint through purple urban haze
And hear some rap and bebop and blues
And just get crazy